I was acting crazy in North America, and all the crazy people there took it seriously.

Chapter 9 confirmed, it's a wolf-killing story.
Leaving aside the bikini, I don't even know about the bra?
It would be understandable if Donald didn't know, but for even Richard, a married man, not to know, it can only mean one thing—

A "murderous mask," at least in the modern sense, has not yet been invented.

Ah this...

Logan was heartbroken.

How can women be treated so cruelly in this era?
He had only been here for a short time and hadn't yet learned how to undress someone, otherwise he would have discovered it long ago.

Well, it seems it's not too late to realize this now.

Logan didn't know or care who invented it before; now it was definitely him who invented it.

This is absolutely not about making money, but about women's health and about adding more excitement to this boring world.

So, how can we benefit women of this era as quickly as possible?

By the way, he has The Sun as a natural publicity platform; newspapers are the microblogs of this era.

So, is he trying to sell products? Or is he just doing "live-streaming e-commerce" in this era?
Indeed, live-streaming e-commerce is everywhere, even at the ends of the universe!

However, this would likely earn him a title like "friend of women."

After hesitating for only half a second, Logan smiled broadly. That's... wonderful!

Surely no one would refuse to be a "friend of women," right?

"Al Capone is truly a fascinating man!"

Logan suddenly blurted out something.

Richard and Donald looked puzzled.

Logan offered no explanation, only telling Richard, "The newspaper needs to hire more people."

"Live streaming" + "product sales" is something that two people can't possibly manage alone.

Donald slapped his thigh. "I told you guys should have expanded. This office should have been moved a long time ago. Look at those Italians who run newspapers, they just buy an entire building."

No, don't you guys want to say something about that Italian-run... "Vagabond" newspaper? How did the topic suddenly jump to hiring people and buying buildings?

Richard, still completely bewildered, looked on with a question mark in his eye.

……

In fact, the publication of the Windy City Wanderer newspaper left the entire city of Chicago in a state of utter bewilderment.

What is this? Openly advertising the sale of silver?

Newsstand owners who used to display the Page 3 girls of The Sun are now all too afraid to do the same thing.

Goodness, at least The Sun can openly hype things up using the gimmick of a "missing person notice," but you're not even going to put on an act, are you?

Even the newspaper's name is "Wandering," how ingenious!

Even the naive newsboys felt that selling this newspaper was too risky.

Of course, it's impossible that they wouldn't dare to sell at all.

If it can't be sold openly, can't it be sold secretly?
Thus, Chicago today is a silent Chicago.

At the newsstand, people buying newspapers acted like spies making a rendezvous, exchanging glances, discreetly passing a few newspapers, and then hurrying away.

Some shrewd men, thinking "Today is such a happy day," buy many copies at once—I'm not buying them to look at, I'm buying them to collect. Who knows how long this happy day will last?
This was visionary.

If other newspapers could pretend to be oblivious and ride the wave of hype from The Sun before, this "dissolute newspaper" has now crossed the line into social wrongdoing!
Even before the next day, mainstream media outlets rushed to publish special editions that same day, vehemently condemning the attack.
"This level of moral depravity is intolerable!"

"Ban! This newspaper must be banned immediately and without hesitation!"

"A ban isn't enough; those behind this must go to hell!"

This was said by Reverend Edward Kosner.

Edward Kosner was absolutely furious!

From the moment he first saw the "Windy City Prodigal" newspaper, all that remained in his mind were "How dare they..." and "How could they..."

He was already furious when The Sun came out.

While he was tirelessly pushing the cultural sector to "remove pornography," the original "Guangming Daily" was redesigned into the more explicit "Sun Daily." No one would believe it wasn't a provocation, not even the dogs at the church gates.

Naturally, the Chicago Catholic Journal was also the newspaper with the most resolute stance in its crackdown on The Sun, showing no ambiguity or leniency whatsoever.

He's not just talking; he's organized a conservative opposition group and is preparing to march and protest at the Sun newspaper office!
Okay, now here comes something even more provocative!
If The Sun's provocation was to urinate on his head, then The Wandering Paper is to urinate on him until he chokes to death and then continue to urinate on his grave!
Can this be tolerated?

Pastor Edward couldn't stand it for even a minute longer.

"A march! We must immediately launch a march to protest!"

We can't let this city continue to degenerate!

……

When Logan heard the news, he dashed to the scene like a hapless spectator, only to find the marchers already surrounding the offices of the Windy City Wanderer's Daily.

Reverend Edward, dressed in a black robe, stood at the front of the crowd, holding the Bible aloft as if it were a sacred banner.

Behind him was a dense, dark procession, mostly solemn-looking citizens dressed in traditional attire, their hands covered with placards:

"God will judge you!"

"Blame those who blaspheme, get out of Chicago!"

"Close the gates of hell! Reclaim morality!"

The procession moved forward slowly but steadily, their shouts growing louder and louder with each passing wave:
"Cleanse away the filth!"

"Morality will prevail!"

The newspaper office was closed, but in front of it stood a row of burly men who looked menacing. They stood with their arms crossed, their mouths smirking, revealing a malicious grin, blocking the way for the marching crowd.

"Make way! The Lord's people must cleanse this defiled land!" Pastor Edward's voice was sharp with emotion as he tried to move forward.

The burly men merely raised their eyelids slightly, waved their hands as if shooing away annoying flies, and stood firmly in confrontation with the angry marching crowd.

"Get to work! Get to work now!"

Luo Leziren Gen held up his camera while chanting something like a mantra.

"What...what the hell...are you serious?"

After a while, Donald, who was out of breath, finally caught up with Logan from behind.

He instructed his underling to keep an eye on the Italian newspaper office, and once the underling discovered the commotion, he immediately went back to inform him.

Logan's eyes lit up when he heard this. He grabbed the camera from the newspaper office, said "Take the film," and disappeared.

The saying goes, "If you're not enthusiastic about watching the drama unfold, you've got something wrong with your brain."

After finally catching his breath, Donald looked at the standoff ahead and chuckled, "Oh, the Italians are serious, aren't they? They're taking this newspaper office so seriously, sending so many underlings here to protect it."

"Oh ho, isn't that Reverend Edward Costner who criticized you in the newspaper? So he's the one who started this trouble!"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "How do you know him?"

Donald chuckled, not wanting to mention that he had someone follow him, intending to find an opportunity to put him in a sack and teach him a lesson. He only talked about the situation before, "It's like dogs fighting, hilarious, really hilarious!" Logan took two photos, put down the camera, and said thoughtfully, "I guess these thugs weren't specifically sent to guard the newspaper office."

"why?"

"Could they have predicted that someone would come to protest?"

"That makes sense, so now..."

"I guess they were originally watching prostitutes take photos."

Donald thought about it and felt it made perfect sense. "Selecting beauties from half of Chicago's prostitutes, lining up to take nude photos, what a spectacle! If it were me, I would definitely go and see for myself."

"But, so what?"

Logan stroked his chin. "In other words, quite a few prostitutes must have been trapped inside."

"I think I heard you say that the Chicago sheriff hates prostitutes the most?"

"Yes, his family broke up when he was a child because a prostitute interfered in his marriage. He was ruthless in arresting prostitutes, and prostitutes were most afraid of being arrested."

“This is interesting.” He looked at Donald. “Could you go and call some of your underlings over here, the smart ones?”

Donald sensed something was amiss and narrowed his eyes, asking, "What do you want?"

He leaned close to Donald's ear and whispered a few words to him.

Donald's expression changed. "Will this work?"

"Why not give it a try? There's nothing to lose, and if it works, it'll be a lot of fun."

Donald was convinced, completely convinced. "You're a real ruthless guy!"

Logan pursed his lips. "It's too peaceful right now, not fun. Just tell me if you're going to do it or not."

"Dry!"

……

The standoff continued, and reporters began to appear on the scene, which boosted the morale of the marchers and made the Italian gang members who were trying to stop them even more hesitant to take action.

Suddenly, several people at the back of the crowd shouted in unison, "The police are here! The police are here! They're coming to arrest people! People inside, run!"

That panicked cry was like a red-hot iron rod being plunged into hot oil, instantly causing an explosion!

The marchers stopped pushing forward, and there was a slight disturbance.

The henchmen who tried to stop them were in complete chaos.

Not long after, the newspaper office door was suddenly kicked open from the inside, and a group of colorful "beauty pageant contestants" surged out like a flood bursting its banks!

Most of them were disheveled, some wearing only stockings and corsets, and some even wrapped in just a thin sheet, revealing large areas of dazzlingly white skin. Their hair was messy, and their heavy makeup was washed away by sweat, leaving messy lines.

They screamed, covered their faces, and rushed into the crowd in an attempt to break through.

The underlings scattered in all directions, following closely behind; the previously stable standoff collapsed instantly, like a hornet's nest that had been poked open.

The protesters in the front row were caught off guard and were knocked off their feet by the surging "fragrant breeze".

Upon seeing this, Logan immediately gave Donald a few more instructions.

Donald's expression changed several times.

He was wrong, it was a werewolf!
Just a few dozen seconds later, someone in the back of the crowd shouted sharply, "Grab them! The police are here! Don't let any of them get away!"

"Cleanse this filth completely!"

The marchers, already frustrated and impatient from being blocked, were instantly enraged upon hearing this. They reached out to intercept and tear at the "embodiment of evil" who was trying to escape.

Reverend Edward stood at the center of the storm, trying to stem the tide with his booming voice: "Calm down! People of God! Hold on..."

Before he could finish speaking, he felt a blur before his eyes, and a slippery body reeking of cheap perfume slammed into his arms.

He instinctively reached out to push, but his fingers suddenly caught a wisp of gauze—a shawl that had slipped off a "beauty's" shoulder.

The "beauty" struggled frantically, the thin gauze tearing with a piercing sound, and with a "rip," a large piece of her pink bra was instantly ripped off!

She screamed, her hands, painted with bright red nail polish, lashed out at the obstacle in her path with a desperate urge to escape; three clear, bloody scratches instantly appeared on Pastor Edward's face, which was contorted with panic!
This was only the beginning of the disaster, as if Pandora's box had been opened.

The moral guardians followed suit, clinging tightly to the clothes of the "incarnation of evil"; while the "beauties" and gang members who wanted to escape tried to push each other away, some tried to grab each other for protection, and some simply grabbed and tore each other by accident in the struggle.

In the chaos, the sound of tearing fabric rose and fell, and shreds of cloth danced pitifully above the heads of the disoriented people like leaves swept up by a gale.

The reporters on the periphery were all incredibly excited, their flashes going off one after another.

The melee only gradually subsided when the wailing of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

The belated police officers stared in disbelief at the scene before them:
The ground was littered with tattered rags and slogans; a group of terrified, scantily clad women; a group of ragged, dazed protesters; and—

Reverend Edward was the first to be affected.

His sacred black robe had now been reduced to tattered rags, hanging haphazardly on his body, revealing his equally torn shirt underneath.
The three bright red scratches on his face were extremely glaring, and the blood beads that seeped out meandered on his pale face.
Most striking was the top of his head, where a pink, lace-trimmed women's bra, torn beyond recognition, had been thrown out from the center of the tear and landed squarely on the pastor's head like a crown, swaying gently as the pastor trembled.

Logan, camera in hand, was the first to rush forward, pointing at the pastor and saying with a smile, "Pastor, give me a smile, cheese!"

With a "click," a priest wearing an undergarment crown, his face bearing glaring scratches, his body draped in tattered rags, and his eyes wide with fury, along with a prostitute curled up beside him due to her lack of clothing, entered the painting—a world-famous painting was born.

When he realized what had happened, a surge of adrenaline rushed to the priest's head, and everything before his eyes turned into a spinning, bizarre illusion.

He made two strange, unintelligible "hoarse" sounds in his throat, his eyelids flipped upwards, and he fell straight backwards, crashing heavily to the ground.

Logan nimbly jumped back and declared confidently, "I didn't touch him, it's none of my business!"

"Why are priests these days so fragile? They can't even handle this little thing?"

Donald: "..."

Shivering.

He's really lucky he wasn't driven crazy by you.

It's confirmed, his little cousin is actually a wolf killer!
……

What followed left him even more astonished.

Logan rushed back to the news agency like a whirlwind, waving his camera at Richard and saying, "Big news! Big news! We'll put out a special edition right away!"

"Yes, forget about the novel serialization and the Page 3 girls for now, just release a special edition!"

"What's the theme? It's the decadence of Chicago, of course."

"The front page headlines belong to Edward Kosner, yes, the pastor who called us depraved."

"Let me think of a title: In broad daylight, in full view of everyone, a pastor openly tears off a prostitute's underwear. Is this a moral decline or a distortion of humanity?"

Donald, who witnessed the whole thing: ...

He thought it would be better if the priest just died of anger, otherwise he would die of anger again after waking up.

……

　Is refusing to add to favorites or hand over one's votes a sign of moral decay or a distortion of human nature?

　　
　
(End of this chapter)